


nylon threads

by luxuror



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Internal Monologue, Introspection, There's no fluff or romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxuror/pseuds/luxuror
Summary: This is the sort of mindset that one day, I’ll look back and either still sorrowfully feel the same, or disturbed and in pity of my younger self.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Yellow viewed Lance as a big child her age. She remembered he was so tall, like an Onix. She had to look up to see his face. His eyes were big, like hers, but they were scary and cold. She knew that he was much older than he looked, but something about him made her feel like she was older than him.

Yellow would often have dreams of a pink Celebi taking her hand and lifting her to the sky, telling her that it wanted to show her something from the past. The air would sparkle before her eyes, fading white, then turning red, landing in the remains of a city.

Scattered corpses of human and Pokemon littered the streets, covered in debris.

She’d see a young boy holding an injured Dratini tightly in his arms.

She’d see his tear streaked face, covered in soot.

She’d see that he was no longer scared, but angry.

His arms were wrapped so, so tightly to that little dragon Pokemon, but also so very gently. So very lovingly.

In those dreams, she’d sit next to him and hug him.

“It’s okay. I’m here for you,” she’d say softly. “You’re not alone anymore. Everything’s going to be all right.”

He’d look up at her, and a tiny sliver of hope would come back into his eyes. He’d cry on her shoulder until he fell asleep, and she’d fall asleep with him.

When she woke up after dreams like that, she’d remember reality.

She felt tears forming in her eyes, but she didn’t wipe them away. Her hand reached for the space in front of her, as if something was there.

\---

Lance viewed Yellow as the source of his shame. He remembered she was so tiny, like a Ratata. He had to look down to see her face. Her eyes were big, like his, but they were softer, kinder, gentler. He knew that she was ten years younger than him, so in all aspects he should be superior to her, but something about the way she talked to him made him feel like a Pokemon she pitied greatly.

Of course he couldn’t stand her. His Dragonite looked back at him after he spat out his command that day at Cerise, trying to confirm what he truly wanted to do with the blond haired girl. Lance gritted his teeth. All he wanted to do was to hear her bones break, so that she'd go away, so that she wouldn't disturb him by existing anymore.

Surely she heard the cries of suffering Pokemon.

Surely she saw what horrible things people did to Pokemon.

And yet, somehow, she was able to smile, and remain so positive.

Every memory he had of those days never stopped haunting him. The sight of every building that roared to the ground, every ash-laden breath he took, every single Pokemon’s scream he heard, every dead Pokemon he touched, the taste of every tear he shed over those poor Pokemon, every Pokemon, every Pokemon, _every Pokemon--_

The time since that incident turned from hours, to days, to months, to years, but every time he’d let his mind wander he’d remember. His dreams would make him remember.

Lance didn’t care much, if at all, with what Agatha wanted to do, but she knew how to keep a wound open. She would never let him forget the pain of thousands he felt that day, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t want humanity’s destruction, so he went along with her whims.

Whenever he looked at his reflection, he saw a man who willingly became a puppet.

He saw a child who ran away from his body.

Lance grabbed his face, rough as sandpaper.

\---

It was the usual morning, with Yellow gently shaking Chuchu awake so they could start their day. Folding the futon, deciding on what clothes to wear, going to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Sometimes, her gaze would linger in the mirror longer than usual. Long yellow hair. Big brown eyes. Big cheeks that stretched if you pulled them.

She pulled her cheeks harder and harder, until they stretched so far they hurt, until she felt strange looking at her reflection.

Big brown eyes.

Uncle always said they were kind.

What made her eyes kind?

Yellow remembered the first time a Pokemon attacked her. She couldn’t say anything to it, heal it, or comfort it. She felt so helpless.

Were her eyes always meant to be kind?

If Red wasn’t there that day to help her, she would’ve been scared of Pokemon, wouldn’t she? Maybe she wouldn’t have been. She saw how cute and kind some of them could be before she met him. The Sunkerns and the Furrets always whispered hello; they watched over her quietly, gently. That always made her happy.

Maybe without Red, she would’ve been angry about whoever made that Dratini angry. Maybe she wouldn’t have forgiven the people who hurt it enough to make it wail in grief. Maybe she would’ve never believed in people.

Lance’s eyes were filled with so much anger, they glowed. Something about them hit close to home.

\---

After everything settled down, Lance decided to go on a journey. The wind, and his footsteps, led him first to the Viridian Forest. It was the place that blessed him as well as equally cursed him.

Of course, those days drenched in self pity and rage passed. Whether he came to his senses (because of a little girl yelling at him over and over, of all things) or if he felt painfully shamed by his past actions, it is a fact that he helped saved the world he tried so desperately to destroy once before.

He chose a tree with thick leaves to lay under, the light speckling because of the breeze, and closed his eyes. He was tired, after all, and wanted to rest his eyes (and mind, if the nightmares would let him) for a while.

He began to drift off when he heard a rustling noise.

Annoyed, he opened one eye and saw a curled purple tail and black tipped ears tuck quickly in a bush in front of him.

Ratata and Pikachu were plentiful in Viridian Forest. They reminded him of her.

He sat up and extended his hand to them. After some deliberation, the two Pokemon emerged from their hiding spot and sniffed his hand.

They both admitted he seemed suspicious, but familiar in a way, and wanted to keep an eye on him. Lance reassured them that he wasn’t in the forest for anything but rest. The two Pokemon looked at each other and nodded, and decided to keep him company.

Though Lance hadn’t interacted with either of these species since he was a little boy, he still knew where they liked to be pet the most. Soon, they became comfortable with him enough to the point that the Ratata napped on his shoulder and the Pikachu in his lap.

Was this the sort of idyllic life she lived before she met him?

Was this what she so desperately wanted him to believe in?

Perhaps a large part of his heart wanted to apologize to her, to tell her that her words affected him more than he could imagine. He couldn’t help but smile sheepishly at that.

\---

Yellow liked it when the days passed by uneventfully and slowly. It gave her time to appreciate the clouds rolling throughout the day, to catch up with the Pokemon and people passing by. She liked being able to count to 30 (or 28, or 31, depending on the month) and then start over again at 1.

In the summer, the crisp green leaves would sparkle in the sunlight as if they were priceless gems that grew on trees.

In the fall, the leaves would turn shades of gold and red, a sight anyone could get lost in.

In the winter, branches would be barren, but the way they framed the sky was a wonderful sight of its own.

In the spring, the cherry blossom petals would dance through the air, speckling the blue sky with spots of pink.

Yellow drew all these precious scenes in her sketchbook.

She wondered if that little boy in her dreams ever saw the world as something wonderful like she did, and if she could someday teach him if he forgot.

Would he be open to that sort of thing?

Would he be willing to do that with her?

\---

“...It’s you.”

Lance saw the girl without her hat. The look in her eyes never changed throughout the years. Something about that used to make him angry in the past, but looking at her now, at this girl who remained the same, gave him a bittersweet feeling.

As a child, Yellow remembered he was an angry person. She didn’t need to read the thoughts of Pokemon to know that. She didn’t even need to look at his expression to know that. A storm always brewed around him. It was as if his personality whipped the winds itself.

But now, there wasn’t even a breeze. Lance simply looked at her, dumbfounded. It wasn’t the one he made when he lost their fight, but something more complicated that she understood anyway.

Her hand automatically reached for his cheek.

It was something that needed to be done years ago, perhaps before Yellow was even born, perhaps by someone else more appropriate Lance’s age, but also at this very moment, with the both of them.

In moonlight speckled by the rustling leaves, on the side of a road they saw each other again by chance, he bent down, as if he was a large Pokemon who decided to trust her, and he wordlessly held her hand to his forehead, his eyes closed, for a while.


	2. 0

-0-

“Come on, let’s go!” Yellow smiled, holding Lance’s hand, dragging him forward.

“There’s nothing that exciting about going into a sandstorm,” he muttered, knowing that it was loud enough for her to hear.

Yellow’s companion acted as tough as he could, but his heart was kind, and he always cared for Pokemon. Lance cared about other people too, helping them whenever he could, even though his kindness was clumsy. He was a bit shy, always trying to do so in way that didn’t shed the spotlight on him. But whenever he decided to do something, he did it. He was stubborn. She admired that about him.

“Oh, but there is!” She let go of his hand, which tugged at his heart a bit, and she spun around and adjusted her hat with a proud look on her face. “Red told me about a desert here in Hoenn that had a super cool Ground type!”

“Ground type, huh.”

“Don’t get disinterested so quickly.” she pouted, cheeks puffed up like a Dedenne. Lance wanted to pull on them. “You see, the Ground type Pokemon I’m talking about can evolve into a Dragon type. Pretty neat, huh?”

Lance’s companion was a vibrant one, and her heart was as warm as her personality. She wanted to make others, Pokemon and humans, happy and make them smile, especially when they were feeling down. And she made that enthusiasm of hers so clear. He admired that about her. It must be contagious.

“That is pretty “neat”, as you put it.” Lance already knew about Trapinches, Vibravas, and Flygons, of course, but she seemed really so enthusiastic about her knowledge, he couldn’t possibly shut her down.

“Hehehe, I knew you’d be happy about it. Let’s go get one together, just for you! And we can see it evolve together, since I know you like battling a lot.” Though it’s really cute as it is in pictures, and I really don’t want to do that, Yellow couldn’t help but think, but she didn’t say it out loud.

“...I can keep it as a Trapinch, if you’d like.” She was an open book, really.

“Ah!”

“Oh.” He wasn’t really good at these sort of things.

“Lance, you knew what it was and you didn’t tell me?” She looked at him, wide eyed.

“I like Dragon types,” he replied bluntly. “Of course I knew. I know every single one out there.”

“It’s one of those things I think that’s cool about you-- ouch.” Lance put a hand on her head, the impact stronger than he meant it to be, but he didn’t apologize. He kept on walking.

They did end up catching a Trapinch that day.

_\--Can I name it?_

_\--Of course you can. It was your idea._

_\--But it’s your Pinchy!_

_\--“Pinchy” it is then..._

_\--Why do you look so embarrassed?_

It was wonderful dream, far beyond the reaches of reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something about these two reminded me of old wounds never addressed in my past "it's fucking Pokemon" so it is *serenely smiles*
> 
> If this fic was something that you related to or you saw yourself in and I could release a burden in your heart as much as it released mine while writing it, I'm glad. 
> 
> I thank you from the bottom of my heart if you read this all, as I know the pair is complicated I mean just look at it, and I hope I was able to convey that as safely and neutrally as possible. Let us meet again another day, when I figure out how to write the next (Wataie?) fanfic.


End file.
